


The Case of the Very Gay Detectives

by Michelle Christian (movies_michelle)



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:32:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/movies_michelle/pseuds/Michelle%20Christian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy waking up one day and finding you're Rupert Everett. Written for kumquatweekend for Yuletide 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Very Gay Detectives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kumquatweekend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kumquatweekend).



So, the thing I forgot about Jonny Gossamer is that he never got the girl. There was always the one that got away or the one who died or even the one who tried to shoot him in the head. Sure, he always solved the case and occasionally saved the ingenue, but there wasn't a single book that ended with him curled up on the couch snuggling with anyone, happily watching a rerun of _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ or some shit like that. Jonny always ended up alone, smoking, drinking, and listening to blues, presumably until he passed out or puked or both.

That probably should have been my first clue.

I'm not saying Harmony shot me in the head or even came close. She never even dumped me for some hot shot producer LA big-wig. Okay, so she's dating one of the producers from _The O.C._ , but we kind of broke up before then. Or just never got together.

Oh, by the way, there will be gay bits in this story. Don't worry, I'll warn you when they're coming.

Okay, see, this is why I suck as a narrator. Let me back up.

We got back to LA from Indiana, and I was never so glad to see smog in my life. I guess I got attached to the place, not least of which because I wasn't freezing my balls off for four to five months out of the year, so I thought I'd stick around. Problem was, I was broke, I didn't have a job anymore, since Dabney had gone ahead and hired Colin Farrell and didn't need me. That also meant I didn't have a place to live since Dabney had been footing the bill to pay for my hotel. So I was homeless in the City of Angels, and I turned to my closest friend.

"Fuck no."

It was sunny, since hello, LA, and Perry had agreed to take me out to breakfast. Apparently, that was all he was prepared to agree to.

"Look, man, I need something."

"Then go stay with Harmony." Perry wasn't looking up from his newspaper, so I couldn't even give him the sad eyes that normally got to people.

"We're kind of at a delicate time in our relationship..." I trailed off.

"Oh," he said, looking at me finally, "you're going through the Amish phase."

I blinked. "Amish?"

"Where you're not allowed to be in the same room together."

"Her new roommate doesn't want me staying there," I explained.

"Uh-huh." He sounded dubious.

I tried to get us back on track. "Come on, it'll be totally short term."

"No."

I tried to reason with him. "You saved my life. Doesn't that make me your responsibility?"

"Sure, Hop-sing. Just prove to me that either one of us is Chinese, and I'll completely look after you until the day we die," he agreed.

I decided to try a different tack. "It's just--"

He tried to act like he didn't care. "That's what hostels are for." He was actually pretty convincing.

So, that went on for a while, but you don't need to hear all of it, and I don't need to humiliate myself in front of any more people than I did that morning, okay? The check was finally there and Perry paid it, shooting me a dirty look.

"Thanks for breakfast, Harry," he said warmly. "Whining always helps my digestion."

I followed him out onto the street and threw out my last card. "Look, they kicked me out of the hotel two days ago. I've been living out of my freaking car, which the rental people are about to charge me with grand theft auto for. I'm broke. I don't have a job. I have maybe three sets of clothes, and I haven't showered in three days." It was a litany of patheticness and I knew it, but I knew Perry couldn't leave me this much in the lurch.

"Well, damn, Harry," he said, sounding moved. "You have just described my dream roommate. Of course I want to live with you." He actually seemed to be softening up a little bit, though. He got this look on his face. I've seen it a couple of times before, sort of like he feels guilty for being an asshole, which he is most of the time--and something else. I saw the something else before, after I was tortured. I'm glad I didn't have to get my nuts fried again just to see that look.

Okay, one more last card. "I thought we were partners, man."

He looked at me as if I had just announced I was Mr. Leather 2006. "Promise me you will never use that word to describe us again, and you can stay on my couch for tonight."

Score. "You're the best," I tell him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Whatever. Just don't get fleas in my house."

***

So, that's how I moved in. The thing is, I'm a master when it comes to staying where I'm put, and I knew, deep down--very deep down--Perry didn't want to get rid of me.

Soon, he was giving me jobs to do. Okay, so at first it was things like picking up packages from the post office and getting his car washed, but it was honest work and he paid me. I was even occasionally able to afford a nice cheeseburger, which are like $10 in LA, which is fucking insane, but that's LA for you.

Over time, it sort of grew to doing surveillance and interviewing people and doing all the stuff Perry didn't feel like doing in the job itself, which led to me kind of, sort of, maybe letting this one guy go because some chick was choking on an ice cream cone in the park. Then the bitch might have sued us because I was a little too vigorous with the Heimlich, but what was I supposed to do, let her die?

Oh, you're wondering about Harmony, right? Here's the thing about Harmony: The whole gay thing is kind of her fault. Okay, no, it's not her fault, I mean it's not like she put Perry's dick in my mouth or anything, but it's her fault in that way that I don't think it all would have occurred to me unless she had made me start to think about it. Or maybe it would have.

See, that first month at Perry's was kind of nice. He was an asshole, which I ignored for the most part, and I stole all his food, including the stuff he had marked as his. Worked out well, like I said it would. Also, seems to me it's kind of stupid to expect a thief to respect personal boundaries, you know?

The thing you have to know about Perry is that while he doesn't seem all that stereotypically gay, every now and then he'll turn around and do something and I think, oh my God, Liberace would find that fucking embarrassing. Like his cell phone ring, which I never could figure out if it was a song he seriously liked or a fuck you to everyone. I will say the ginormous Bette Davis poster in the upstairs hallway probably shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did, but the lady is fucking scary that big.

The gayest thing, though, was that he, you know, dated guys. I suppose that goes without saying, but when you're not used to men who look like male models coming and going at all hours of the night, it's pretty notable.

Okay, to be fair it was probably more like five dates in that first month I lived there, but it seemed like more. And meanwhile, Harmony and I were kind of...drifting.

Honestly, it was probably happening all along, but I didn't notice it until much later that while we were getting together several times a week, there wasn't much going on. I guess it sort of creeped up on me that at some point, she started treating me differently. Or maybe the weirdest thing about it was that she wasn't treating me all that differently at all. You'd think I would have noticed the not-having-sex part, especially since I was horny all the time, but I kept being distracted by everything else. There was a lot going on.

Okay, Perry is probably right: I am the stupidest man on the planet.

"You should see these guys," I was telling Harmony. "They all look like extras from the club scenes in _Queer as Folk_."

Harmony laughed. "Since when have you started watching _Queer as Folk_?" she asked.

"Perry has the entire series on DVD," I admitted. She laughed some more. I smiled because it had always been one of my favorite sounds, her laugh. Less bell-like, more snorting. "Hey, it's not like I have a lot to do during the day when I'm not getting Perry's dry cleaning," I defended, laughing with her.

"Yeah, sure, Harry. No will of your own."

"So, what's going on with you?

And she started to tell me about the new walk-on part she'd gotten on one of the _CSI_ s as a corpse. Or maybe that should be lie-on. Anyway, she was excited, and then the bomb dropped.

"Jack told me last night that I could probably work that out to something bigger on one of the other shows, since if you show up on one, they generally hire you back," she said, chomping on a fry.

"That's great." I smiled and nodded. "Who's Jack?"

"Jack," she gestured with her next fry. "You know, Jack."

It actually clicked then. "Oh, yeah, that producer you mentioned."

"Yeah, him. You know, since we've been going out, he's really introduced me to a lot of people."

Everything else kind of went to white noise. I mean, it's not often you hear your girlfriend start talking about dating another guy, especially not so casually. "Huh, that's funny," I said, not caring that I was interrupting her oh-so-interesting story about Jack and Barry Levinson. "Because I kind of thought _we_ were going out."

Harmony didn't even pause. She burst out laughing again, complete with full-out snorts. "Don't you think you should ask your husband about that, Harry?" she finally got out between pig sounds.

Okay, I'm guessing I was wrong.

Long-to-short, I made a realization that Harmony had been treating me more like her girlfriend than her boyfriend. I think I handled it well, all things considered. I only made her throw four dinner rolls at me, and she was talking to me again by the next week. But, you know, it's not every day you find out you've become Rupert Everett in _My Best Friend's Wedding_ , so fuck you.

The really surprising thing, I came to realize, was how much I wasn't upset about not being with Harmony. I love her, I'd been in love with her, but I wasn't 14 any more. She seemed happy. Fucked up and flaky, but happy. That had always been the most important thing to me when it came to Harmony, so I found myself kind of sliding past the rest of it.

Once you start thinking you're Rupert Everett, though, and watching a lot of _Queer as Folk_ , your mind starts to wander in specific areas. Who knows, maybe it was the electrical current to my balls, too, but I found myself watching Perry. A lot.

Even from my perspective as a totally straight man, I could see why Perry would be attractive to other men. He's tall and broad and shit. He's smart and has a quick and evil tongue--metaphorically, I mean, I didn't know about the literal aspect yet. He probably wowed them all over town, but I'd never really thought of it until that lunch with Harmony. Afterward, it was all I could think about.

I thought I was being subtle, but Perry turned to me one morning over the orange juice and said, "Am I on the Jim Rose circuit?"

"What?" I can normally come up with better come backs than that, but it was 8am, so bite me. I work nights, man.

"Stop staring at me," he demanded. "Every time I turn around, you're fucking watching me like I'm going to burst into flames at any moment."

"Well, you can be a little flamboyant," I pointed out.

"Shut up, asshole" he said and left.

I was, of course, watching him. I couldn't seem to stop. I'm like that, though, I start thinking about things and I can't let them go, I just get obsessed with them. You really don't want to know how long I kept that Rubick's Cube when I was a kid.

I started to think about what I would do if I was really, you know, gay. Which is, I guess, when the gay thing really started, because, really, even I'm aware that straight guys don't generally think about that kind of thing and their best friend. Okay, I thought about Chip Chutney once like that, but we were stoned and it was high school, so I don't think it counts.

Then, one day, Perry invites me to a party. Actually, he more demands I go so I cheer the fuck up after the whole not-dating-Harmony-finding-out-I-might-be-the-gay-best-friend-and-not-the-lead- _with_ -a-gay-best-friend. Okay, so it might have been a bigger deal than I let on about, but I had been in love with her since I was 8. Not that I told him about realizing I might be Rupert, but I might have been a little down. And I realized the party provided the perfect opportunity. Perry would drink a little, I'd get more than a little drunk, and he'd have to take me home, and then the magic would begin.

Okay, folks, this is your two minute warning. Things are about to get really gay. Soon there will be kissing and dicks and sucking and orgasms and not a pussy in sight. Those of you with small children, weak constitutions, or Pat Robertson, look away. Everyone else, settle in with the popcorn.

The thing is, I admit it, I was about ten kinds of wound up, which doesn't generally lead to my best work, so when someone offered me a joint, I took it. Which was probably my first mistake. See, pot relaxes me, but it also makes me kind of talkative. Hard to believe, I know. Also, there might have been something else in that spliff, because it seemed to effect me even more than usual.

"Remind me to leave you in the car next time," Perry said on the way home that night. He didn't seem all that happy, which, okay, not far from normal, he's kind of an uptight guy, but it wasn't conducive to my plans for grand seduction.

"Hey, the guy asked," I told him.

"Oh, really, he asked for you to tell him he should have fucked his brother?" Perry seemed skeptical.

"Hey, he said he found the idea hot when he watched _Supernatural_." It seemed reasonable.

"You are never allowed to get stoned again. All drugs are off limits to you," he insisted.

"Fuck you, Nancy Regan," I told him, and started to giggle.

"Oh, no. You're enough of a moron sober. You're a menace to all intelligent people high." Perry paused and kind of smiled. "Brian's brother is kind of hot, though."

I laughed some more. "You're a sick fuck, man."

"That's what they tell me at the bathhouse."

So, we make it back to the house, and I admit, I kind of play up the drunk and high angle a bit, stumbling a little so he will reach out and steady me, which he does. We make it up the stairs and to my room, when I decide to make my move.

I leaned in to kiss him.

"What the fuck?" Perry seemed ready to jump out of his skin. "What the fuck did they give you at the party?" He seemed more mad at them than at me, which I thought was at least a step in the right direction.

"Not much, man, just a joint. I don't know where it was from, though. The guy claimed it was island, but I think every white guy in LA thinks they have island shit. They're worse than high school guys in Indiana. Although I did know this one guy--"

"Shut the fuck up," Perry said.

"You say that a lot," I pointed out.

"You are a constant source of need," he countered. Okay, so I don't think we were going to make the Algonquin Roundtable any time soon, but I was ready to get to the porn portion of the evening, anyway. I'd been thinking about it, I'd been rewatching pertinent portions of _Queer as Folk_ , and I was high, so it seemed as good a time as any to get this thing started. So I leaned in again.

Perry seemed more freaked out, but slightly more gentle this time. "Really, Harry, what the hell are you doing?"

"Well, I just think that we like each other, you saved my life, and I kind of wanted to try this." Okay, about three different reasons out of the dozens that had been crowding in my head for weeks, but not the ones I probably should have chosen first.

"I am not your E-ticket to Gayland. You don't get unlimited rides because it's your first time," he said. "Find someone else to give you the tour, if you're that curious."

"It's not about being gay, man, it's about you," I insisted. Okay, that sounded a lot better, I thought.

"You really are a moron. Of course it's about being gay. It doesn't get gayer than fucking another man."

"Alright, it's a little about being gay, but since you're the only guy I've wanted to do that to, I figured it had more to do with you than that. Then there's the name thing."

He looked really confused now. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know, Harry and Perry. Perry and Harry. We sound really gay," I pointed out.

"Are you suggesting we sleep together because our names rhyme?" He slapped me in the head. "Are we in Dr. Seuss porn? No!"

"And you know, everyone thinks we're together already, so I couldn't have pulled any guy from that party, anyway."

He really stared at me now. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, I'm the moron. Come on! They all think we're a couple. And since most of them are scared of you, no one's willing to give me a ride unless you say yes."

"I hate my life," Perry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, which I thought was a grand idea.

I sat down close to him.

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Perry said, but the air seemed to have gone out of him. "You are so not sober enough to do this," he said, sounding defeated.

"For fuck's sake, I'm not that high! I had one joint," I point out.

"Bullshit," he said, looking at me kind of tired with that half smile that I realize now is kind of sexy when I don't want to punch him for it. "You babble like a fourteen-year-old Japanese girl when you're wasted."

"I do that when I'm sober, too," I point out.

Never in the history of sex has a straight man tried so hard to be gay-laid. Seriously.

I started leaning towards him again. He held up a hand.

"Harry, really. You freaked out when I kissed you that once."

"Um, Perry, that wasn't a kiss," I said, remembering it clearly. "That was like being gay mugged. Throw down your tongue and come out with your lips up, kind of thing."

That seemed to startle a laugh from him. "You're insane," he said, though I could detect a bit of fondness in there, too.

"Whatever works for you," I said, and finally made lip contact.

He didn't respond at first, but then he did, and suddenly, I was kissing Perry.

There's usually that moment, somewhere in the first kiss with anyone, where I'm thinking about something else. How I met them, where I want this to go--usually straight to bed--what I want to get for breakfast tomorrow, if it's particularly bad. My first thought on kissing Perry, aside from the fact that five-o'clock shadow just felt weird when it wasn't mine, was about the last time my lips had been on him. My next thought was, "He doesn't taste like blood."

Stupid, I know. Well, it's my sex scene, so if you don't like it, you can leave.

We came up for air and he looked at me as if he thought I was going to run off and throw up, so I kissed him again. There was no hesitation in his response this time.

The next time he pulled away, I heard myself say, "I thought you were dead." I didn't mean to say anything like that. Way to go, Harry, with your seduction technique. Bringing up near death experiences is always the way to get laid.

But there was that look on his face again, that other thing that seemed to be saying now he was done fighting whatever battle that was going on in his head. He must have wanted this too, otherwise no way I could have talked him into it. "I didn't die, Harry," he said, probably in the gentlest tone of voice I have ever heard from him.

For once, even high, my internal censor was working, because I didn't say, "I noticed, since your boner's poking me in the thigh." Instead, I leaned down and kissed him again.

I won't say the earth moved or any cliche shit like that. It was probably just the bed.

About that time, my hands started making their way into his clothes, and his shirt came off. I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of. I'm wiry, but I'm built, so when I got naked, I didn't really think twice about it. Perry, though, is big. I mean all-over big. He also has this tattoo on his left peck which says "For the boys," which was kind of distracting at first, but which I find kind of cute now. Anyway, this was my first look at him naked, so I was nervous.

"Holy shit," I said when he got his pants off.

He looked up at me, and there was that soft look again. It wasn't leaving any more, and I found I really liked it when he looked at me like that. "You can stop any time, you know."

I was starting to get annoyed. "Seriously, Perry, I'm not fucking seventeen. This isn't date rape. I'm fine. Now get over here and have fucking sex," I growled at him. He looked like he was going to burst out laughing, though, so I'm not sure I actually growled or sounded like something else.

"You're an idiot," he said, with more fondness than usual, and came back to the bed, lying on top of me. We started kissing again.

I really like just making out sometimes, but we were seriously spending far too long with the kissing, in my opinion.

"You know," I said, pushing him away slightly, "I thought with two guys there would be a lot less foreplay. We're naked, we're having sex. Can we get to the sex part?"

Perry pushed me down more firmly. "My show, slick. We do what I say," he said and started kissing down my chest.

I was annoyed by this, though glad the mouth seemed to be moving. "Well, that'll make a change," I said sarcastically.

He licked my left nipple, which did absolutely zero for me, except, hey tongue on my body, and looked up at me with this insanely evil grin. "Tell you what, Harry, you get good at something and we'll let you lead."

He bit at my right nipple, and holy fuck, that was good. "I'm a pretty good second story man," I panted out.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, and slid further down. About damned time if you asked me. And, god, he was good.

"Oh, god, Perry. What you're doing with your tongue. Fuck, man. Yeah, suck right there, you fucking great--"

Perry stopped and propped himself up on his elbows over my hips. He looked annoyed. "What the fuck? Are you narrating the blow job?"

"I'm into the moment."

"You need to shut the fuck up."

"It felt good!"

"Congratulations, you're the first guy in the history of the world ever to enjoy a blowjob. Please be sure to tell all your friends about it. Later," he insisted.

"I'm sorry, asshole, but I thought a little dirty talk might--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'll staple your lips together," he said. He meant it, too.

"Gee, Perry, that's sexy," I said sarcastically.

"If you could stay quiet for five goddamned minutes--"

"I'm sorry, was I not supposed to express emotion?"

"That's it." He started rummaging through the bedside table: I didn't think he had a stapler in there, but I was a little nervous.

The next thing I knew, he had pulled out a ball gag and strapped it to my head.

"Mmmph mmhm mhm!" I insisted.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Mrph mmm!"

"Back at you, dickhead," he said, smiling at me, and went back to blowing me.

Now, I've had plenty of blowjobs in my life, and there's really no such thing as a bad one. And, who knows, maybe all gay guys are that good, and it's just something you learn when you get your five year fruity pin or something. But it really was not too long until I was coming so hard I thought my head would cave in.

By the time I could actually see Perry again and not just wonder what that large man-shaped thing leaning over me was, I saw that he had a smirk to end all smirks on his face.

"So, what do you think? Gay enough for you?" he asked smugly.

"Mmoh mmm."

"Excuse me?" he asked innocently, but I hit him in the shoulder and reached up to undo the gag.

"Blech. I hoped you cleaned that from the last time you used it," I said.

"Well, since it's normally the float in the toilet tank," he said smiling. I hit him again. "Ready to be a little more gay?" he asked, tilting his hips against me. I answered by tackling him back to the bed.

Now, I can't say that a dick is something I find attractive. It's not gross or anything, but I don't see myself writing sonnets to one any time soon, not even Perry's. It's definitely not something I had ever wanted to put in my mouth before.

I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking about the fact that I'm a thief with priors and probably wasn't the guy beating up all the other guys to keep them away from him in prison. You're right, too. This wasn't my first time up-close-and-personal with another man's cock. But just like kissing Perry was a world away from giving him CPR, there couldn't be anything more different between what I did with Perry and a guy named Mo forcing me to my knees.

So fuck off with your little _Oz_ prison fantasies, okay?

Going on the idea that there are no bad blowjobs, I just went for it. I wasn't going to be deep-throating him any time soon, not being a porn star or professional sword swallower or some shit. But I licked everything and sucked what I could, and you know, it all came to a satisfactory end.

Sorry, man, I'm not John Preston. I started reading some of his stuff in Perry's library before I realized what it was. Yeah, not Preston in many, many ways. The ball gag was a one-time thing, I swear.

Anyway, I swallowed, because Perry had and it only seemed fair, then I came up and laid on top of him.

"I think maximum gay has been reached," I said, satisfied. He snorted and put his arm around me. The one good thing about two guys is, we could just fall asleep without talking and stuff, which we did.

***

Okay, so Jonny Gossamer never settled down with his gay partner who forced him to go see Dreamgirls five times and never lets him drive. Those were crappy books anyway; what do they know?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to M'Lyn and Merricat for the very prompt beta.


End file.
